


Subscribed

by ronans



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Crushing, Eventual Skyping, M/M, Periscope, Pining, Social Media, YouTube, YouTuber Ian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thumbnail scares him, if he’s honest, because Ian Gallagher is holding a guitar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever wondered how Mickey would react to Ian doing Cameron's live stream? Well, here you go.  
> mickeysupset helped loads with this in that she shouted headcanons at me and I cried and have now written a fic so thank you!  
> Also, everyone else who has helped me stay motivated, you're so so great oh my god  
> I'm so sorry the title is bad and the summary is terrible and tells you literally nothing but I honestly blanked and ugh, I don't know, yeah, sorry. The rating will change as the fic progresses.

‘I thought you were going out?’ Mickey grumbles as he watches his sister throw the couch cushions onto the floor. Mandy growls under her breath, picking up the quarters that had somehow found their way into the various crevices. Mickey frowns and waits for her to reply once she’s stuffed the change into the back pocket of her jeans.

‘I am, but I left my fucking purse at work again so I gotta scrounge around the couch for loose change.’

Mickey rolls his eyes and picks his cigarettes up off the coffee table before Mandy can pinch them too – he wouldn’t put it past her. ‘Doubt you’ll even be able to afford a bag of peanuts. Unless you’re planning on stealin’ shit.’

‘Well, I’m gonna rely on mine and Lana’s stunning good looks to get us free drinks,’ she sighs. ‘Or you could lend me a few bills?’

Mickey snorts and makes his way to the kitchen, leaving his sister in the tiny living room. ‘Good luck with that and fuck no.’

He doesn’t hear her approach, but he certainly feels it as she shoves the back of his head. ‘Fuck you.’

‘Calm down, bitch,’ Mickey says as he rubs the spot she hit.

‘I can’t. I’m kinda excited to be going out for a change. I’m sick of staying in and eating takeout with my brother every Saturday night.’ Mandy’s slow smirk reassures Mickey that she’s joking, though, so he doesn’t feel too shitty about himself.

‘I didn’t ask you to fucking stay home with me every weekend.’

‘I know, and yet you don’t seem to mind that I do.’ Mandy wanders out of the room and returns with her jacket just after Mickey’s grabbed a beer from the fridge. ‘Don’t wait up for me.’

Mickey’s pocket buzzes with a notification and he hastily pulls it out to unlock it. It’s exactly what he’d expected it would be and he hates that he’s got to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

Mandy tries to peer over the top of his phone to look at the screen but he pulls it away just in time. ‘New boyfriend?’

Mickey scoffs and absently holds up his middle finger as he leaves the room.

‘Y’know, you’re supposed to tell me about any new guys in your life. If I’ve gotta share an apartment with you, I have a right to know who you’re-‘

Her voice becomes considerably more muffled once Mickey shuts his bedroom door. He makes his way over to his bed and there’s a brief moment of bliss as he boots up his laptop where there’s no sound outside. Then there’s the sharp slam of the front door and he knows he’s alone.

The thumbnail scares him, if he’s honest, because Ian Gallagher is holding a guitar. He gingerly clicks on the video and waits for his shitty internet connection to buffer the video.

Ian clears his throat and grins at the camera. Mickey’s already practically fucking drooling.

‘Hi, guys, so today I thought I’d address something that a lot of you have been asking about in the comments.’

Mickey comments there. That’s his thing, he leaves comments. He does that. And Ian, apparently, reads them. He shouldn’t be feeling this on edge just from hearing him confirm that.

‘My guitar.’ He turns around in his desk chair and points at the acoustic mounted on the wall. When he faces the camera again he’s smiling in a goofy, proud way and seriously, fuck Ian Gallagher. ‘No, it’s not just for show. I’ve been self… teaching?’ He pauses to tilt his head and then half-grimaces half-smiles in a way that Mickey hadn’t known could be so endearing, because, really, he’s just screwing his face up. By all accounts it should look unattractive. ‘Myself for about a year now. Uh, so I thought I’d make a video of me covering one of my favourite songs?’

Mickey sighs and buries his face in his hands; there’s no way this is going to turn out well. If Ian’s good at singing, Mickey’s fucked. If Ian’s  _bad_  at singing, Mickey’s even more fucked. Ian coughs as he stands up to retrieve his guitar, and he probably knows he’s giving his audience a great view of his ass. Mickey just hopes that when he checks out Ian’s Twitter page later there will be other people commenting on this particular collection of frames so he doesn’t feel so much of a creep.

‘I’m gonna play Creep by Radiohead.’

Mickey nearly has a heart attack. Ian can’t read his fucking mind, can he? He’s such a fucking idiot, of course he can’t.

‘I hope you like it. I mean, I can’t sing, but…’ Ian trails off and shrugs and Mickey’s left squinting at his screen in bafflement. ‘ _When you were here before_ …’

Mickey’s jaw drops open and he pauses the video. ‘What the fuck.’

His face bunches up in a drawn-out wince as he takes it in. Mickey can’t quite believe he’s witnessing this, can’t quite believe Ian plucked up the courage to release this onto the internet to his millions of subscribers, Mickey doesn’t know how many he has. (2,023,700 or something. So fucking what if he does know it? He’s not a stalker or anything, it’s just when you don’t allow yourself to go out and meet dudes to fuck on the regular, what the hell else are you supposed to do?)

Mickey shakes his head and then presses play again, reaching behind his ear for the cigarette he’d placed there earlier. He lights it up and takes a drag as Ian reaches the chorus and Mickey braves it through the high note. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s actually enjoying this. Ian’s got a little smile on his face as he plays the guitar and he’s pretty mesmerising. Mickey breathes out smoke through his nose and lets his head hit the wall as he leans back a bit. He almost rips his ears off when Ian attempts the  _really_ high notes but bites his lip through a smile when Ian starts laughing.

‘Nah, can’t do it, okay,’ Ian titters, still playing the guitar and waiting out that section of the song.

When Ian’s voice becomes softer, ‘ _Whatever makes you happy… Whatever you want…_ ’ Mickey feels his eyebrows rising. Ian’s smile’s gone, and he’s put some more melancholy into his voice. Mickey could probably listen to this depressing shit all day just to watch Ian’s body hunch slightly over his guitar as his voice gets quieter.

Once Ian finishes off the song he nods and rattles off his social media addresses, just like always, and Mickey hopes he’s not the only one left gaping at his computer. He hastily shakes himself out of it and stubs out his cigarette. Mickey closes full screen and scrolls down to the box beneath the video to type out this week’s comment.

 **_mogwaiaftermidnight_ ** _: can’t fucking sing huh? that why you made a 5 minute video of you doing just that ;) nice high notes_

He almost regrets the wink face but doesn’t _quite_ have the heart to delete it. He can do whatever the fuck he wants to online without much consequence, and if that means subtly flirting with a YouTuber and being sarcastic at the same time, so be it.

*

Ian yawns and runs his hand through his ridiculous bed hair as he opens his laptop. He likes to not leave it too long before reading through the comments section on his videos because otherwise they pile up and he has no hope in hell of checking through all of them. Half the time he doesn’t know why he bothers; most of them are memes he doesn’t care to learn the meaning of, and the rest are just comments about how he’s starting to grow a beard, which, yes, he knows.

He hopes that this one might be different, though, since he did actually _do_ something different for this week’s video. There’s a flood of positive shit that makes Ian grin and puff up a little under the praise. There are a few trolls- as to be expected- but other than that, a tonne of marriage proposals and people simply professing their love and obsessions. He’s never not going to be weirded out by that.

A few of the bad comments just make him laugh, a few of them make him insecure, and then there’s the one that makes him blush.

‘Wait,’ he murmurs under his breath as he narrows his eyes at the username. He definitely recognises it, but he can’t quite place it. He whispers the username like if he vocalises it where he knows it from will come to him. And it works because it hits him.

Ian doesn’t like to think of himself as odd, but whenever he comes across a comment on any of his videos that makes him laugh, smile, or even just pisses him off to a startling degree, he screenshots it. And it appears that the majority of his folder is filled with this one person’s comments.

 **_mogwaiaftermidnight_ ** _: you go out at night and watch the stars by yourself? Ok._

 **_mogwaiaftermidnight_ ** _: @gallaghergirlxo leave him the fuck alone jesus christ I doubt he started up this shit just to have a hormonal preteen search up his fucking life story and relay it back to him_

 **_mogwaiaftermidnight_ ** _: no one has muscles that fucking firm and doesn’t go to the gym, stop tryna make relatable videos and go back to telling me what your top ten favorite movies are or what the fuck ever_

Ian draws his bottom lip in by his teeth and smiles, tilting his head. He returns to the video and screenshots the new comment just as his cell phone starts to ring. Ian frowns at his phone sleepily and prods at the screen, trying to pick up the call. ‘Hello?’

‘ _The fuck was that_?’ Lip’s voice sounds out through the speaker. Ian rolls his eyes.

‘What do you mean?’

‘ _You_ sang _? Ian, have you even listened to yourself before? You sound like a dying-_ ‘

‘Fuck off, alright, it was a joke.’ Kind of. ‘Anyway, why do you care?’

‘ _I don’t know how the hell do you get away with this shit, man_ ,’ Lip chuckles and Ian visibly relaxes. He really hadn’t been in the mood to have his brother piss all over his good mood this morning. ‘ _There are thousands of chicks here_ begging _for you to serenade them before they get on your dick and it’s like it’s nothing_.’

‘Fuck off,’ Ian says again, turning half of his attention back to his laptop screen. With one hand he continues to scroll through the comments, just like his brother’s probably doing back in Chicago.

‘ _They know you’re gay, right?_ ’

Ian shrugs even though Lip can’t see him. ‘I guess. I mean, I haven’t exactly made a coming out video, but it’s not like I’m hiding it.’

‘ _Speaking of your gayness-_ ‘

‘Is that supposed to be like Your Highness, or are we just talking about the fact I’m still into guys.’

‘ _Take it how you want, either way, I need to know if you’re seeing anyone right now_.’

Ian squints at his screen as he finds himself landing right back on that one comment. He feels ridiculous. ‘Nope. Not seeing anyone, why?’

 _‘Fuck. I gotta go to this dinner party thing next Saturday. Gotta bring a date. Now, obviously, that’s not the hard part._ ’

Ian rolls his eyes again. ‘Obviously.’

‘ _Right, but I don’t want to be stuck with a bunch of North Side assholes from my work without really knowing anyone there._ ’

Ian draws his eyebrows together and then spins a little on his chair, trying to avoid looking at the words on the screen. ‘Why can’t you just say you can’t go?’

‘ _Ha_ ,’ Lip says sarcastically and then doesn’t say anything more on it. ‘ _Was just wondering if I could fly my little brother back to Chicago for the weekend to help me out and possibly meet his new side piece in the process_.’

‘What about Fiona? Debs, Carl? Literally anyone who lives in the near vicinity?’ Ian tries to supress a yawn, but it escapes anyway. Lip picks up on it and suddenly Ian remembers that his brother’s a raging asshole from this new tone he’s adapted.

‘ _Oh, am I boring you or something? You need me to throw in a couple of unnecessary bombshells to keep you interested? Or can you just not keep a normal conversation._ ’

‘Ugh.’

‘ _Sorry if I wanted to show off my internet sensation of a sibling around the office_.’

‘How many times am I gonna have to say fuck off during one conversation?’ Ian groans, dragging his spare hand down his face. Talking to Lip is tiring but at the same time makes him slightly homesick. He misses the bickering, he misses the jibes, he misses his family.

An open plan New York apartment, his own space, is pretty great, too, but sometimes it’s nicer to be in the midst of the chaos of family.

‘ _You comin’ back to Chicago anytime soon, though? Really? Fiona’s always asking me what the fuck you’re doing and when she’s gonna see you next._ ’

Ian lets his head drop to rest against the wood of his desk. ‘I call Fiona twice a week, same as you.’

‘ _She worries, man_ ,’ Lip says in the kind of voice that tells Ian he’s about to wrap up the conversation. ‘ _Anyway, enjoy whatever you do on a Sunday and I’ll talk to you later, alright?’_

‘Sure. Have fun at your work thing next week,’ Ian replies half-heartedly. Lip snickers.

‘ _And fuck_  you  _for not hauling your ass back here, date or no date, to help me out_.’ The line goes dead and Ian’s arm immediately goes lax. He stays in the same position, slumped over with his head on his desk, for a while after that. He figures it’s okay because he lives alone.

He rolls his head and glances up at the darkened screen of his laptop and then finds himself staring wistfully at it. He lives alone and he’s got a growing, pathetic, absurd crush on a faceless someone who’s made him laugh a few times.

Ian sits up properly and drags himself closer to his desk, waking up his computer and then clicking on the account. He can’t remember the last time his eyes lit up so brightly when he notices that the user’s uploaded a video. Not some weird lyric video made with Movie Maker, an actual film. His heart sinks a little bit when he takes a closer look at the thumbnail and realises it’s a chick. As if that was going to be the one thing keeping him apart from this person.

He clicks on it anyway, because he’s somewhat of a masochist, and watches as the dark-haired girl brandishes a giant stick and Ian’s instantly confused. He brightens, however, when a male voice starts talking.

‘Put that the fuck down and introduce this.’ It’s gruff and pissed off and Ian finds himself attached to it. God fucking dammit, he has no clue how his life ended up here.

‘So we found this really creepy building and we’re gonna go explore!’ She holds out her thin arms wide and throws the stick out of the frame in the process.

He listens to the man scoff and grins as they navigate their way through the rubble, the charismatic girl narrating the entire time. He gets a weird feeling that he recognises the place but doesn’t think too much into it.

As soon as the video cuts out Ian stands up and feels his bones crack. He places his hands on his hips and mutters, ‘Fuck.’

He picks up a half-empty pack off the table and saunters over to his window, shoving it open, before lighting a cigarette. The city below him is alive with cars driving down streets, people enjoying the relatively nice Sunday. He sniffs and scratches through his almost over grown ginger hair and sucks on the filter. If he gets his next video filmed today while he has fuck all to do, he’s freed up the rest of the week to leisurely edit it, and he thinks he knows what he’s going to be making his next one about.

Quickly, he finishes his cigarette, yet still takes the time to let it calm him. He feels lazy as hell today and his version of productive – getting next week’s video filmed and out of the way – probably isn’t  _actually_ productive. But whatever, he’s still enjoying it. He chucks the cigarette butt out the window and then sets his camera up.

He knows he looks like shit so he showers and dresses finally, and then plonks himself in front of his camera. After jotting down a few notes to give him a rough plan of what to talk about, he presses record.

‘Hey, guys, I just wanted to thank you for your comments on my last video-‘ Probably a little premature, but whatever, he’s going to bask in the positivity while he can, ‘I really appreciate it. I’m just gonna jump right into this.’ Ian coughs and smiles bashfully, really laying it on thick. ‘So I think I kinda like someone,’ Ian says, bunching in on himself a little. ‘But it’d be really hard to figure stuff out in this… weird situation.’ Ian shrugs because how else can he explain crushing on a fan who religiously comments on his dumb videos to a sea of other fans who also religiously comment on his dumb videos? He can feel this is going to start to become more personal than he initially intended as he carries on talking.

‘I’ve never really… had someone- well, a healthy relationship, I guess is a better way to put it. Guys I’ve dated in the past haven’t been good for me,’ Ian slips in casually, but he knows everyone’s going to have laser like focus on that bit of information if they hadn’t already known he was gay. Fuck Lip for making him think about not having come out online properly. ‘I think it’s important to be with someone who makes you smile, makes you feel good about yourself. Before that never really… happened,’ Ian says slightly awkwardly. He feels strange sharing this, but he might as well go for it. Chances are there’s someone out there watching his videos who’s just like him; too many bad past relationships to count and not sure where to go from here.

Ian presses his lips together. He’s got some major editing ahead of him if he wants to keep Lip’s teasing remarks to a complete minimum once he’s uploaded this. ‘It’s mostly based on sex, right? You fuck and it’s over, you wanna make them breakfast but they’re all “shit, it’s getting late, better get home”, and you’re like, fine, fuck you then, and when  _you’re_ the one who wants to leave,  _they’re_ -‘ Ian cuts himself off. He’s probably gone a little far, and a little too bitter. He resolves to edit out that particular thought and then sighs, attempting to start over again.

Maybe he should have planned this shit out a little better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You have no idea whatsoever why they stopped responding to your videos.’  
> ‘Nope.’  
> ‘And you’re kind of low-key crushing on them.’  
> ‘Fuck. Yep.’  
> She narrows her eyes and nods gradually, some of her straw colored hair falling in her eyes. ‘Man, this is weird.’  
> Ian barks out a short laugh and shakes his head, drawing his cardboard cup up to his mouth. ‘Uh huh.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Ian section of this chapter's like double the size of the Mickey one, but it's kind of necessary. The next chapter's going to be more focused around Mickey :)

Days turn into weeks and Mickey resolutely refuses to go anywhere near the comments section on any of Ian’s newer videos. Or his old ones. Fuck, he shouldn’t even be watching any of Ian’s videos at all if he’s going to get this pissy over one little piece of information that had clearly been supposed to help people out. Ian makes vlogs, Ian updates his life to a camera and then publishes it online to an audience. Mickey should still enjoy watching that since that’s what he came here for.

However, that doesn't stop the irrational jealousy over whatever guy he’s crushing on. There’s always going to be that stupid fucked up hope present in Mickey’s brain that maybe something will happen with Ian someday, especially now that he’s definitely revealed he’s into guys.

 _Ha_. Like Ian not being gay would be the only barrier.

He sighs and closes his laptop, having just finished Ian’s latest upload where he talked about having friends online, or wanting them, or something along those lines. It’s not really Mickey’s fault that he couldn’t stop fucking staring at his suddenly curly hair for long enough to pay attention – someone like Ian can’t just spring that on his audience without warning. It pains him a little to not leave a comment this week more than others because of this, but he guesses it’s pointless anyway. He’s not sure how he’d kid himself before that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted online without giving too much of a shit.

Mickey should probably finally nut the fuck up and get himself laid. Soon. Maybe that would tone down the foreign feelings and the smiles he feels stretch across his lips whenever he’s watching Ian’s videos.

He slides his computer off his lap and then strolls lazily over to his bedroom door in only a tank top and boxers, hoping Mandy’s still asleep so he won’t be made to make her coffee too.

Mickey’s been getting better at holding off watching Ian’s new videos until the morning after they’re uploaded – he thinks it’ll be easier for him to resist leaving a comment if he sees that there have already been a hell of a load left before him. Hasn’t really been working too well, though.

He just about manages to stifle a groan when he sees Mandy already in the kitchen, slumped against the cabinets as she taps at her phone. She looks up when she hears him yawn and tracks his movements as he goes to set up a pot of coffee. ‘Hey.’

He barely grunts in response and turns on the crappy machine they’d scored at a second hand store a few days after moving in. It hadn’t taken them long to realise that they weren’t going to survive on their own without a supply of caffeine in the morning.

‘Wh’cha doin’?’ Mickey mumbles groggily, nodding his head towards Mandy’s phone.

She glances back up again and pouts. ‘None of your business.’

‘Fine, whatever.’

She stares at him calculatingly before she places her cell phone down on top of the counter and moves to retrieve two mugs from one of the cupboards. ‘Did you see our video got another like?’

Mickey mashes his eyebrows together and picks up the now ready pot of coffee. ‘The YouTube one? …You go on that account? Check up on it?’

Mandy shrugs and leans back against the counter, accepting the jug off her brother and pouring some coffee into her mug. ‘Well, yeah. If I’ve ever got fuck all to do, I’ll re-watch our video ‘n see if anyone’s commented on how dumb we are. That day was about as much fun as we’ve ever had together, Mick. It’s nice.’

Mickey rolls his eyes and titters, but inside his stomach’s flipping. All he’s wondering is if there’s any way Mandy could have seen the slew of comments he’s left on Ian’s account under that username. Fuck. That’s going to make him look like a desperate prick, and he has to live with Mandy. She wouldn’t just let that shit slide.

‘You’re pretty sentimental, huh?’ is what he ultimately says.

Mandy smiles and shakes her head. ‘We should do something like that again. Film it, too. People liked it last time, so why not do it again?’

Mickey smirks and crosses his arms, mirroring Mandy’s relaxed position on the opposite kitchen counter. ‘Uh,  _ten_  people liked it. It’s not like we’re Ian fucking Gallagher or-‘

‘Who?’ Mandy interrupts, furrowing her brow. Mickey gulps and shakes his head, briefly pursing his lips.

‘No one, don’t worry about it.’

Thankfully, she drops it, returning to the main topic of conversation. ‘Anyway, that stuff doesn’t matter. It’ll be fun to go out and just do whatever the fuck we want. You can get a day off from the diner next week, right? Say you’re ill or something.’

The corner of Mickey’s mouth quirks up. ‘Thought you said you were sick of me the other week.’

‘I mean, I  _am_ sick of you when you’re mopey all the time. Like now. What’s been up with you lately? You’re…’ Mickey elevates an eyebrow, waiting for her to choose an appropriate word. ‘ _Piney_.’

‘Piney? What the fuck.’

Mandy nods gradually, a slow smile spreading across her lips. ‘Yup. Piney. You’re still not telling me about a guy you obviously like. Is it ‘cause he doesn’t like you back or something?’

 _Holy fucking shit_. ‘When the fuck have you known me to fuckin’ like  _any_ one?’ he grits out hotly, immediately taking a sip of his drink.

She grins. ‘True… But  _I_ think since we moved a few blocks closer to Boystown it’s brought out a different side to you.’

‘Oh fuck you,’ Mickey grumbles, flipping her off and trudging out of the room.

‘It’s not all about their dick, Mickey!’ Mandy yells.

‘And what  _the fuck_ would _you_  know about that?’ Mickey shoots back over his shoulder. He decides to stay out in the living room instead of storming off to his bedroom, because he knows if he goes back in there he’ll probably open his laptop and start bitching in the comments section about stupid sisters and fucked up situations and Ian, of all people, doesn’t need that clogging up his nice stream of ‘I love you’s.

He sighs and clicks on the TV, settling back against the couch with his coffee and scowling as he channel surfs through the shitty Sunday morning shows.

‘So how does Tuesday sound to you?’ Mandy asks, throwing herself down next to Mickey on the couch like their tiny spat just then never happened.

‘The fuck’re you talkin’ about?’ Mickey asks tiredly.

‘Making our new video. We just chill today, and then we can go find a forest or a new building or something on Tuesday. You game?’

‘Sure, I guess.’ He can afford one day off work. Plus, it’d be good to get his mind away from ridiculous thoughts that are going to get him nowhere.

*

Ian’s not pouting over this. He’s not. His lips are just kind of in a constant grimace because someone hasn’t been commenting on the last four of his videos. He drums his fingers against his desk and frowns at his laptop screen. He’d been sure the curly hair thing would work considering how they’d commented on his physical appearance before – Fiona had actually been the one to bring it up during their last phone call when he’d briefly explained everything to her. It made Ian a little disheartened to think that maybe people didn’t like him as much as he thought. Fuck, he should have learned from Lip to not let stuff get to his head.

He pushes away from his desk finally and huffs out a short breath, basically scuttling around his apartment for items of clothing deemed fit to wear outside and his shoes and jacket. His skin was crawling and, aside from his daily run and weekly shop, he hadn’t been out of his home at all.

Ian scans over his fridge and bread basket, taking a quick inventory, locked phone in hand. He’s about to shoot off a text to his one friend (and how long has he been living in New York now? That’s pretty dire) but decides against it, electing to surprise her.

Lately, he’s been focusing a lot more of his time on his video content and quality, and he doesn’t want to think too much about how that might relate to a certain absent commenter and a blue eyed, black-haired girl (he’s holding out hope that they’re two separate beings). He steps out into the crisp late afternoon and strides down the pavement. The coffee shop he’s aiming for is only a couple of blocks away, but he’s bursting at the seams, desperate to talk to let these weird feelings he’s been having recently out into the open with someone who’s not a relative.

Lightly, he pushes against the front door of the shop and peers round the edge, making sure she’s on duty. He smiles and fully enters, leisurely making his way up to the front counter.

‘Any freebies?’ Ian greets the woman manning the till with. She whips around, confused, until she notices who it is.

‘Ian! Haven’t seen you in a while, you good?’ Jenny beams and automatically begins setting up his usual coffee order.

‘Hey, I texted,’ Ian defends himself weakly, but Jenny just levels him with an unimpressed stare. He smiles softly and taps the display counter. ‘So as I was saying-‘

‘I’m pretty sure there’re people out there willing to pay for our food stuffs.’

‘You know I’m only friends with you because you give me stale bagels,’ Ian mutters, smirking slightly. Jenny chuckles and relents, reaching into the far corner of the display case for the separate bag of yesterday’s unsold produce.

‘Never ceases to amaze me how you stay so toned when you literally live off bread,’ Jenny grumbles enviously. Ian stuffs the food into his bag, keeping one of the bagels in his hand to eat when he sits down, and grins.

‘6am jogs. You should come with. It’d be kinda nice to talk to someone; I know fuck all people from around here.’

She scrunches up her face in distaste and turns off the machine as Ian’s coffee finishes up. ‘I can’t believe you’d even ask me that, that’s gross, Ian.’

Ian smiles for a moment longer and then drops it, pressing his lips together. ‘Hey, uh, you on break yet? I know I joked, but it’d be pretty fuckin’ great to talk to someone right now. Never really know how to bring shit like this up.’

Her gaze turns sympathetic and then she scrutinises him a little more closely. ‘You look tired, you been doin’ okay?’

‘Yeah, just… I’ve got a situation-‘

Jenny holds up a hand to halt him and then moves to peer into the backroom. ‘Jesse, I’m taking a break, alright?’ She moves away from the archway and nabs a pack of chips from a display basket before joining Ian on the other side of the counter. ‘Quick, before he sees me and hands me into the cops for stealing a bag of chips,’ she hisses, dragging Ian by his coat sleeve to an empty table on the opposite side of the shop. He dutifully takes a seat where Jenny directs him and then watches as she rips open the bag and places it between the two of them.

Ian looks at her uncertainly from under his lashes for a moment; he’s never really been good with reaching out to people, but he’s been working on it, so he decides to just dive straight in.

‘So I have a problem.’

‘Okay…’ Jenny replies slowly, staring at him until he continues. In the briefest and vaguest way possible, Ian explains that he may have a slight crush on someone who comments on his videos and that they haven’t been doing that since he released his video about shitty relationships that he finds himself regretting uploading more and more by the day.

‘…Either they’re scarily good at connecting the dots, or… I don’t know.’

‘Nice way to round off a story. So-‘ Jenny pauses, sucking in a large breath like she’s about to explode into an long winded rant. She deflates as she speaks, ‘You have no idea whatsoever why they stopped responding to your videos.’

‘Nope.’

‘And you’re kind of low-key crushing on them.’

‘Fuck. Yep.’

She narrows her eyes and nods gradually, some of her straw colored hair falling in her eyes. ‘Man, this is weird.’

Ian barks out a short laugh and shakes his head, drawing his cardboard cup up to his mouth. ‘Uh huh.’

‘Didn’t you get any special army training shit that would help you deal with this kinda thing?’

Ian looks at her disbelievingly, lowering his cup after he takes a sip. ‘Uhm,  _no_.’

‘Right, because you were only in ROTC, not full on army. I swear they teach you tactics on how to deal with this…’

‘I have no clue what you’re talking about, but okay.’

‘No? That didn’t work?’

Ian’s expression becomes full on baffled. ‘What?’

She tilts her head from side to side and then admits, ‘I thought if I confused you it’d trick your brain into figuring out a plausible solution on its own… I think I saw it on one of those weird 4am TV shows that no one’s ever awake to watch.’

Ian’s eyebrows jump and he shakes his head. ‘Right.’

‘Well, _anyway_ , this seems like an everyday problem with an easy solution,’ Jenny mutters sarcastically, eyeing him with one eyebrow raised. He rolls his eyes.

‘I’m probably just goin’ a little nuts, latching onto-‘

‘You aren’t crazy, Ian,’ Jenny reassures.

He powers on. ‘I made this whole thing up in my head, I’m thinking way too fucking far into it. They’re not commenting on my videos anymore and I’m fucking needy and a fucking idiot for kind of…’ He shrinks under embarrassment for himself. He seriously needs to get out more. ‘I kinda miss it.’

‘So why don’t you just do something to get them to comment again?’

‘That’s what Fiona said when I talked to her last week… and I tried that,’ Ian sighs, grimacing as he tears up his dry bagel into smaller chunks. He hears Jenny grumble and then watches as she puts her hand over his to stop his agitated movements. As soon as he’s still, Jenny retracts her hand again and then waits until Ian meets her eyes.

‘You can message through YouTube or whatever, right?’

‘I wouldn’t want to contact them directly… Might freak ‘em out, fuck, it’d freak  _me_  out,’ Ian says sheepishly, glancing down at the table again. He’s not sure why he decided to involve Jenny in this entirely odd problem, but he has to admit he feels a little better about it as he looks at the logistics with someone else.

‘So why don’t you make up a competition?’ Jenny lifts her shoulders momentarily as Ian slowly looks up at her.

Even as the cogs turn in his brain, he asks, ‘What kind of competition?’

Jenny smiles excitedly. ‘Oh my god, I’ll tell you what’d be romantic as hell, Ian; centring it around the comments! Because that’s where you found love in the first place.’

Ian leans over the table to steal her glasses, quickly muttering, ‘It’s not love.’

‘Seem a little defensive there,’ Jenny says slyly. She then scowls at him, snatching her glasses back and settling them on her face again. ‘And that was a low blow, fucker. I couldn’t see your flustered face in all its glory.’

Ian smirks and then shifts on his chair, eager to get back on topic. ‘So, explain.’

‘Rig it. Rig the competition, bam, you’ve got one lucky dude. We’re assuming it’s a guy, right? And if not, I’m just… so sorry, Ian,’ she says, though she’s grinning. ‘Anyway… yeah, one lucky dude who’s selected and, wow, just happens to be the exact person you want.’

Ian’s lips curl into a smile and he slowly stands up, leaving his cup and a small mountain of destroyed bagel on the table. ‘Jenny, thanks. I’m gonna text you.’

She looks up at him in shock. ‘What? You’re just gonna leave?’

‘I have an idea, and I seriously can’t let it get away from me, okay. I’ll start focusing on something else and- ugh, shit. I gotta go.’ He waves at her quickly and then strides out of the coffee shop. He feels bad about leaving Jenny like that, but he’ll be able to make it up to her soon.

When he makes it back to his apartment, he’s barely in the door before his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He frowns slightly and pulls it out, not sure how to react when he sees the caller ID.

It used to be that he and his father Clayton would go out to lunch twice a month. It would be a little awkward, but they’d get through it. Now that Ian no longer lives in Chicago, Clayton will call instead and send him checks that Ian feels bad about having to partly rely on to maintain living in his apartment. But he’s pretty sure Clayton feels worse about the state of their relationship, like he has to compensate for not being in his son’s life through some weird version of child support for a twenty-year-old man.

‘Hey,’ Ian breathes out.

‘Hi, Ian, I just wanted to call to check up on you. You know, it’s been nearly a month now,’ Clayton opens with, unsure. Ian feels guilty that he hadn’t been the one to call this month, but it was a two-way street. ‘Did you get the money through?’

Ian squeezes his eyes shut and then rubs his fingertips against his eye sockets. ‘Yeah, thanks.’

‘Good, I’m glad. Have things been… good?’

Ian spins around in his hallway to rest his forehead against the beige wall. ‘Yeah, yeah, they’ve been fine. What about with you?’

‘Jacob’s been doing pretty well at school,’ Clayton replies, a smile in his voice. Ian forces his lips to stay together so he doesn’t join in. ‘He’s been asking about you.’

‘Oh yeah?’

Clayton clears his throat and Ian can hear Lucy calling to her son in the background. It makes him ache, because she’d never really accepted Ian, hence why when he and Clayton had met up after the big “Frank’s not the real father” reveal, it was strictly just them.

‘Look, Dad, I gotta go,’ Ian says suddenly.

‘Video stuff?’ he assumes.

Ian cringes at the thought of his father watching his videos. ‘Uh, yeah.’

‘Well, good luck. I enjoyed your last-‘

‘Bye, Dad,’ Ian says forcefully.

‘Alright,’ he says with a resigned exhale. ‘You’ll contact me when you’re next visiting Chicago?’

Ian honestly didn’t understand why Clayton kept trying to see him. They didn’t really have much to talk about, it was hard to keep up a conversation. Sure, he was a nice enough man, Ian couldn’t deny that, but he’d never really felt that genuine father-son connection. Not like he’d felt anything near that with Frank either, but still.

Despite himself, Ian smiles a little and nods to himself. ‘Yeah, Dad. I’ll let you know.’

‘Bye, Ian.’

As soon as the line goes dead, Ian shakes off the phone call and dives right back into planning the competition. If this doesn’t draw them back in, Ian’s not sure what will. And he’ll be fine with it. He will… He’s just gotta try harder to convince himself he’s not so starved for human attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if this is moving too fast, but I've kind of planned it out like this... Would be great if you let me know what you think so I can work on stuff :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘What’re we gonna be filming, exactly?’ Mickey asks, scratching the back of his head anxiously. Because that’s what’s at the forefront of his mind and he can’t seem to fucking shake it and relax.  
> Mandy shrugs, expelling a cloud of smoke. ‘Dunno. Whatever. Maybe take some douchebag-esque shots of the light and the old ass trees…’ She shrugs again and Mickey makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat.  
> ‘Really? You wanna be one of those channels? Fuck, at least try to be original,’ Mickey gripes, apparently taking her answer more seriously than she intended it to be received, because she bursts out laughing.  
> ‘No, like in an ironic way.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry, I honestly thought I was going to be posting this update early last week! But, yeah, anyone who follows me on tumblr will probably understand that I have a really tricky time channeling my motivation to where it actually needs to be: i.e the drawing I did of a sheep? Yeah, so, I am incredibly sorry, I made this chapter longer to try to make up for it?

Mickey only has to retch for about a solid thirty seconds down the phone before his boss basically tells him to fuck off and get some rest. Mickey throws his cell phone on his mattress after he ends the call and then reluctantly pushes himself up to find Mandy.

‘She told me to rest up. I’m good for today,’ Mickey calls as he enters the kitchen. He opens the fridge and grabs the open carton of milk, glugging it without putting it in a glass first because he knows it pisses his sister off.

Sure enough, a few seconds later the bottle’s being ripped out of his hands and milk’s spilling down his chin.

‘Couldn’t’a let me finish before pulling that shit away?’

‘If you’d finished it, there’d be no reason to take it away now, would there?’ Mandy snarks, eyebrows raised. She then wrinkles her nose, screws the top back on the milk and shoves it back in the refrigerator. ‘And you gotta stop doing that. It’s disgusting.’

Mickey rolls his eyes and slams the fridge shut. ‘Whatever. You gonna get changed or you wanna show your sticks off to the forest.’

Mandy snorts and shakes her head, leaning against the closed fridge. ‘Excuse you, I’m sure the forest would  _love_  my legs.’

‘Hurry the fuck up and put some layers on, don’t want you freezing to death in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.’

Grudgingly, Mandy goes back into her room to change out of her pyjamas and into appropriate enough clothing. The whole time Mickey dresses he spends it glaring at his laptop for how much it’s fucked with him since he procured it. Well, for how it allowed him to start fucking up so much.

He grits his teeth when Mandy starts banging on his door, eager to start the day. Mickey’s in a weird sort of headspace where he’s kind of excited to spend some proper time with his sister, doing what they used to do, but at the same time he’s still pissed off for unknown (or, if he’s being honest with himself, not so unknown) reasons at a fucking famous YouTuber who has no idea who Mickey is.

‘Mickey, Jesus Christ, how long-‘ He cuts her off by yanking open the door and glaring at her. ‘Great!’ He sighs and bites back a grin as he pushes past her. ‘Wait, who’s gonna drive?’

‘I will,’ Mickey offers. And he kind of wishes he’d done it because he was trying to be nice for once, but, really, he doesn’t think anything makes him fear more for his life than Mandy’s driving so he’d rather avoid it whenever possible.

‘Cool,’ she replies, throwing the car keys at him. They make their way out of their apartment with their second-hand video camera and down to the apartment block’s garage. Much like their living space, it’s run down and lacking proper maintenance, but their car hasn’t been stolen or keyed yet so they’re happy enough. ‘Oh, so I  _was_  dreaming; our car’s still a piece of trash!’

Mickey glares at her and he figures he’s probably going to be doing a lot of that today. ‘Ay, you wanna save up to buy a fucking limousine with your own cash, you go right ahead.’

‘A limousine?’ Mandy echoes, judging smirk on her face.

‘Fuck off, I couldn’t think of another type of car.’

‘You worked in a garage for like a year and you couldn’t think of an average upgrade to this beaten to hell Chevrolet? Jesus, I’m glad I didn’t need you to service my car.’

Mickey grumbles under his breath and listens to the engine sputter to life. He pulls out of the parking lot without issue and sighs as he turns onto the main road.

The entire trip to wherever the fuck Mandy’s directing him to is spent with Mickey occasionally bitching about Mandy’s music choices; apparently, she’d come prepared. From weird indie tracks to pop punk to rap, Mandy had it all and it left Mickey wanting to repeatedly bash his skull against the steering wheel about ninety percent of the time. Although he does find himself enjoying his time with his sister, listening to her being happy, hearing her belt out her favorite lyrics. He quietly smiles to himself, sinking his teeth into the inside of his cheek to try and hide it, and minute by minute, he feels himself put Ian Gallagher’s stupid face and stupid videos to the very back of his mind.

And then, of course, he catches a glimpse of the camera resting on Mandy’s lap out of the corner of his eye and he’s pissed off with himself right the fuck again.

‘Almost there. You need to make a left onto that dirt road up ahead,’ Mandy instructs, but Mickey doesn’t trust the way she squints like she doesn’t quite trust her own directions.

‘You sure?’

‘I’ve done loads of research about this place. It’s fine,’ she says offhandedly. Mickey just grips the steering wheel a little tighter as he turns down the road. Well, even if Mandy’s directions are completely fucked, at least they’re definitely going to be filming a forest. As Mickey plunges the car further into a mess of trees and bushes that just seem to keep going forever, he sighs and assumes that closing his eyes for a moment won’t much affect the route he’s on. ‘Mandy?’

She takes a moment to reply. ‘Hm?’

‘We’re fucking lost.’

Trying to cover her own ass, Mandy starts an outraged spiel. ‘Excuse me, but who the fuck was the one driving in this situation? It’s your fault, moron, I checked the directions thirty fucking times, so it’s  _clearly_ not me who drove us into a fucking maze!’

Mickey elevates his eyebrows and cuts the engine suddenly, turning in his seat to properly glare at his sister. She shrinks a little under his gaze. ‘Really? You really wanna fuckin’ go there?’

‘Okay, okay… We’re in  _a_ forest, though, so I didn’t completely mess everything up. Might as well still film a video. Maybe it’ll be funnier if one of us dies because we don’t know where the hell we are.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mickey mutters, shaking his head and opening the car door. ‘You’re driving us back, though. There’s no way I’m manoeuvring this piece of shit back through that.’ He vaguely gestures to the trail of snapped branches behind them as soon as he gets out of the car.

‘Fine.’

Mickey pulls his jacket tighter around him and starts on his way into the wooded area, knowing Mandy’s right behind him from the sound of a slamming door and another set of footsteps crunching twigs.

‘Think I should leave a trail of cigarette butts so we can find our way back?’ Mickey comments as he fishes his pack out of his coat pocket. Mandy rolls her eyes as she falls into step next to him, watching carefully where she lets her feet fall. One of her hands is gripped tightly around the video camera and Mickey almost wishes he’d insisted they didn’t film this time. He’s used their joint YouTube account for too much since their last upload.

‘I can remember the way, your lungs can thank me,’ Mandy replies, just as she accepts the packet and lighter off Mickey and starts to smoke. Mickey quietly smirks at her but then turns his gaze forward, eyeing the gnarled roots covering the floor with caution. He’s got to admit the dappled light coming through the trees and illuminating the forest floor does make it look nice as fuck, though.

‘What’re we gonna be filming, exactly?’ Mickey asks, scratching the back of his head anxiously. Because that’s what’s at the forefront of his mind and he can’t seem to fucking shake it and relax.

Mandy shrugs, expelling a cloud of smoke. ‘Dunno. Whatever. Maybe take some douchebag-esque shots of the light and the old ass trees…’ She shrugs again and Mickey makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat.

‘Really? You wanna be one of those channels? Fuck, at least try to be original,’ Mickey gripes, apparently taking her answer more seriously than she intended it to be received, because she bursts out laughing.

‘No, like in an ironic way.’

Mickey scowls at her and glances down at his almost burnt out cigarette. He rolls it a little between his fingers and then takes another drag as he steps over a particularly large root. Mandy grabs his arm as she does the same, almost tripping.

‘If I drop this camera, we’re fucking screwed.’

‘What a shame, no more videos,’ Mickey grumbles sarcastically. Mandy pushes him as soon as they're on slightly more solid ground and that nearly sends him toppling over entirely. She grins at him in amusement while he brushes off the arm of his jacket and then throws his finished cigarette into the distance. She follows suit, not caring to smoke it completely.

‘Okay, I’m starting this up,’ she mutters, poking at the buttons on the camera. Mickey presses his lips together and spies a clearing up ahead. He bats Mandy’s arm and points at it. ‘Perfect,’ she says simply.

Once they break through the thicket, Mandy waves at Mickey to step back slightly and then lifts the camera up until it’s positioned directly in front of her face. She clicks record and grins, much to Mickey’s annoyance. He has no idea how to do that shit for a camera, hence why he’s never thought to try and copy Ian. Well, that’s not the only reason, but whatever.

‘Hey, I’m Mandy, that’s my brother over there.’ She whips the camera around, focusing on Mickey’s ‘leave me the fuck alone’ aura. He’s just thankful she didn’t mention his name. ‘This is part two of… what’re we calling this?’ She looks briefly over her shoulder at Mickey for help but he just shrugs uselessly, too busy focusing on what might happen once his face appears on the internet. He’s probably overthinking it all, actually, but he’s always been pretty private and he can’t help but look too much into it.

Mickey kicks at a tiny pile of dead leaves, defiantly not looking at the camera as Mandy yammers on about how they’re going to be explorers for the day. And the day does basically go like that, Mickey smiling subtly at his sister and staying in the background. Whenever he walks a little ahead of her, he can feel her filming his back and attempting to get some more artistic shots in. He lets her do her thing and a happy sort of feeling starts to bubble up as he spends more time with his sister. Although they live together, they don’t get to do stuff like this much, it’s just them eating takeout as they watch bad movies normally with no fresh air involved.

After about an hour of Mandy filming various shots intermittently with her narrating every now and again, she shuts the camera off for good and breathes out heavily. Mickey watches her, leaning up against a tree and smoking his fourth cigarette of the day. He should probably cut back, but who fucking listens to the health warnings on the boxes.

Mandy pulls the camera strap out from her jacket pocket and attaches it, letting the camera fall against her stomach. She smiles serenely at Mickey and it automatically makes him suspicious.

‘What?’ Mickey blows out his last breath of smoke and crushes the filter under his shoe, pushing off the tree and lifting his eyebrows at Mandy, waiting.

‘You wanna talk?’ she asks, seemingly out of the blue. He furrows his brow and rubs briefly at the corner of his mouth.

‘We’re talking right now,’ he responds, starting to walk back the way they came. They’d followed a makeshift path through the woods that people before them had probably created, so he’s not too worried about them managing to find their way back to their car. He’s more concerned with the task Mandy has ahead of excavating the car from among the tangle of forest shit.

She walks along next to him, an unimpressed expression on her face. He exhales shortly and then rolls his eyes.

‘The fuck do you want to talk about?’

‘Boys?’ she promptly comes up with as a topic of conversation.

‘Psh,’ he breathes out, a small smile on his face at her bluntness. ‘Right. Sure thing, Mandy.’

‘Seriously… are you seeing anyone?’ she asks, eyebrows raised. Mickey internally debates whether he should answer. He’s not used to this whole being open thing. He’s always been closest with Mandy, but that had mostly been down to her coming across as the lesser of five evils. Now he’s sort of freer to be able to confide in someone else, he’s pretty fucking scared to actually share stuff.

 _Fuck it_.

‘I may as well just release a fuckin’ album called “Sex With Myself” because that’s all I’m gettin’ these days.’

There’s a moment of quiet shock on Mandy’s end that Mickey’d even answered her at all, but then Mandy grimaces and shudders. ‘Fuck, I did not need to know that. Plus, you said it like an old man so that makes it even more gross.’

He chuckles fleetingly at the familiarity but then sobers. ‘Yeah, well,’ Mickey responds hopelessly, clamping his lips together afterwards. They walk in silence for a little while before Mandy turns her head to look at him.

‘Why haven’t you just gone to Boystown?’ Mickey chews on the inside of his cheek and avoids her gaze. ‘Mick?’ He still doesn’t answer her, sighing to himself until she slaps the back of her hand against his chest to stop him from walking any farther. ‘ _Mickey_.’

‘You really want to know about this shit?’

‘Uh, yeah. We’re alone walking in this creepy ass forest, what the fuck else is there to do?’ As she sort of shrugs off her justification, Mickey can see through it all, can see that she’s almost silently screaming for him to fully let her in.

He’s confused about their dynamic. Lost, even. They act comfortably enough around each other, but Mickey’s so used to closing himself off, putting up barrier after barrier to protect himself, that he doesn’t really know how to completely change.

Plus, the whole gay thing’s pretty new to talk about for him, too. How the fuck’s he supposed to be at ease with sharing shit like that like it’s totally fine? He’s so familiar with there always being a reason to keep his mouth shut.

‘I wanna know. I tell you about all the stuff I do,’ Mandy urges, elevating an eyebrow. ‘Look, you know I said because I’m your sister I deserve to know who you’re seeing and how you’re doing and stuff… I meant that, Mick.’

Mickey stares at her sceptically and purses his lips. After a tense moment he shakes his head and scratches the side of his nose. ‘Fuck, Mands, nature’s really getting to you.’

‘Fuck you, I was trying to be nice,’ she responds with a gradual smile. Mickey lets out a small snicker and then starts up their walk again. Mandy pokes at the gap between Mickey’s arm and his side until he relents and lets her link arms with him for the rest of the walk. It feels weird as fuck acting so nice with a sibling, but at the same time it’s kind of pleasant and Mickey finds he doesn’t really mind acting like this.

The week rushes by after they manage to find their way back to their car and return to their apartment, and Mickey feels as if a weight’s been lifted off his chest. Mandy’s still the same person she was before, but she seems closer, somehow, more reachable. On the Ian end of his fucking ridiculous life, Mickey knows something’s coming. Ian’s been leaving hints all over the place that he’s about to announce something his subscribers will like, and it’s making him feel fucking nervous.

He’s just willing for it to be over by the time Saturday rolls around, finding him and his sister slumped in front of the TV with a shitload of Chinese food from the place Mandy works evenings at. They probably eat too much of it weekly, but she gets a discount and they can really do with having a little bit of extra cash around to help them figure out this whole living alone thing.

‘Finally worked out how to edit it properly, just gotta do some last tweaks and then upload it,’ Mandy says through a mouthful of takeout. Mickey narrows his eyes at her and swallows his own bite.

‘Worked out how to edit  _what_  properly?’

She leans over to elbow him in the ribs. ‘Tuesday’s video, dumbass.’

‘Oh. Shit. Okay… So you’re actually putting that on the internet, huh?’ Mickey says cautiously.

‘Yep.’ Mandy appears entirely un-fazed by Mickey’s wariness, not even bothering to look over at her brother. ‘Figured I’d just cut out little bits of it, maybe try and make it look professional. Or intentionally fuck it up. Might be funny.’ She shrugs casually and then smiles at him. ‘Whatever, I guess.’

Mickey narrows his eyes. ‘People are gonna be able to see it,’ he comments uselessly.

‘Duh, dumbass. It’ll be fine. Like you said, probably no one’s gonna find it anyway.’

‘Thought you were gonna be the next big internet star,’ he mocks, hiding his teasing smile. She just shakes her head, but there’s mirth in her eyes. Mickey snorts quietly and turns away to look back at the TV when his phone buzzes with an email. His stomach instantly tenses and Mandy frowns at him.

‘You okay?’

‘Uh, yeah, just gotta see something. Like…’ he peters off, eyes glued to his phone, not even bothering giving her a coherent excuse for just getting up and leaving to go to his room. He’s pretty sure she just accepts it, because she doesn’t come to bug him in the time it takes for him to set up his laptop and headphones and then open his browser.

Is his stubble just upping its own game every single week? Mickey brushes his hand momentarily over his scruff-less face and, no, he can’t fucking copy Ian’s facial hair, that’s just sad. He grimaces as his own grossly sappy and pathetic thoughts and just clicks play.

‘Hi, guys! Today I’m making that announcement I said I was going to do,’ Ian opens with, referring to the Facebook and Twitter posts he’d made earlier in the week (that had driven Mickey crazy, fuck him very much). ‘I wanted to share it right away, but it wouldn’t be right to raise expectations and upload more than one video in a week. I don’t think I could deal with becoming anything more than a weekly vlogger.’

Mickey huffs out a quiet laugh at Ian’s horrified expression and then quickly glances around him, paranoid. Sure, he knows Mandy’s not in the room, but it doesn’t hurt to double check.

‘So, like I said before, although I don’t often reply to them, I look through the comments on all of my videos.’ Suddenly, Mickey has the urge to scour through every one of those videos and erase any sarcastic comment he’d ever made. ‘I came up with an idea to create a competition based on that.’

Fuck. Fuck.  _Fuck_.

He can’t do that, right? He can’t, because obviously Mickey’s going to want to fucking participate and interrupt his month-long comment break. Ian’s not even shared what the winner will get, or what exactly the competition consists of, and Mickey’s already poised over his keyboard, prepared to do whatever the fuck Ian wants him to do. It’s pretty embarrassing.

‘This is probably a really shitty idea, but-‘ Ian pauses to shrug and Mickey hates the guy so much. ‘I want you to tell me in the comments section what makes you happy and I’m going to look through and choose one person. Not that the people who I don’t pick don’t have valid reasons for being happy, it’s… purely random,’ Ian rushes out. He looks awkward now. The editing at that point also suggests he is.

‘So, the winner will get a private video call with me,’ Ian starts up again, smiling. Mickey begins to chew furiously at his bottom lip because holy shit, this kind of an opportunity doesn’t happen every day. ‘And, who knows! We might become friends… or something,’ Ian tacks on, looking bashful. Mickey definitely hates him.

‘You guys have all heard about Periscope, right?’ Ian stares at the camera like he expects an answer before seemingly remembering himself and waving his hand. ‘Uhm, anyway, yeah, it’s this new app. You can download it from the App Store. I’m gonna do a live stream at about 7pm next Saturday to announce the winner.’

Mickey scratches at the side of his nose and glares at the screen because he’s barely been able to get the hang of YouTube, how the fuck is he supposed to start downloading apps? He’s not exactly had the chance to get used to the stuff he’s stolen, his iPhone 3, for example. He and Mandy haven’t been away from the family home for too long, either, so it’s still weird having constant access to stuff like this.

‘If you don’t have it, or won’t be available for the stream, don’t worry, I’ll still be making my weekly vlog as well where I’ll say who won.’ Mickey suspects he’ll miss out on a lot if he doesn’t tune into the broadcast, though. Plus, he’s not going to win, so this is as close as he’s going to get to a video call with Ian fucking Gallagher. ‘I don’t really have anything else to say this week, so I’ll go, but get your comments posted by Friday and I’ll read through all of them. I really do appreciate all of your support. Good luck!’

Ian waves at the camera and he looks like such a fucking dork every time he does that. Mickey doesn’t give the gesture much thought, though, because he’s too busy typing out his comment. Fuck it if Ian’s already got a boyfriend and fuck it if nothing ever even comes of posting it.

*

Ian should feel bad about not feeling bad about skipping reading everyone else’s comments aside from  _mogwaiaftermidnight_ ’s, but… he doesn’t, considering his reasoning for making this competition in the first place. He barely contains his glee that they responded, and it sucks, because he’s supposed to be keeping any feelings to do with this in check until he actually knows what he’s dealing with. But, fuck that, really. If he was going to follow that advice to himself, he wouldn’t have orchestrated this whole thing.

 ** _mogwaiaftermidnight_** :  _knowing that my sister’s safe and has a chance to get out makes me happy_

Ian’s not really sure how to take that. He had expected a snarky reply, but this sounds sweet and caring… but at the same time it could also be fucking sinister as hell. These conflicting thoughts he’s having just solidify the reality that he has no fucking idea who this person is. He knows they’re male, because the person in the video is likely to be the aforementioned sister, and the person manning the camera’s voice was masculine. But other than that, who the fuck knows who they are.

He purses his lips and decides to still go ahead with letting the butterflies bounce around in his stomach. So, what, he’ll go through with this, he’ll do a video call, he can end it at any time if the guy’s a creep, if he made a mistake he’ll heal.

He nibbles his lip for a moment before deciding he’ll need some outside support.

‘ _Hello?_ ’

‘Hey,’ Ian replies, biting at one of his nails. ‘You think you can come over? Like, now?’

‘ _You haven’t spoken to me since we last met up, moron, so, yeah, I’m gonna want to see you. I’m still pissed off at you, though, make no mistake,_ ’ Jenny says the last part mildly sternly.

Ian smiles and spins around absently on his desk chair as he always does during phone calls. ‘See you in five.’

‘ _I hate how you’re so right with how you just assume I can haul my ass across the city to your apartment at the drop of a hat_ ,’ she sighs before hanging up without a goodbye; there’s no need for one when she’s going to see him in person in no time at all.

As he waits for Jenny to arrive, he mindlessly surfs the net, finding that most of the shit he comes across no longer shocks him is a little concerning, but thankfully Jenny arrives before he can get too worried over how his brain’s weirdness tolerance has developed.

‘Heya,’ Jenny greets as soon as Ian opens the door. He beams at her and follows her into the apartment. Almost immediately, she parks herself of the desk chair Ian had been occupying moments before. Jenny’s eyebrows practically hit her hairline when she sees what’s open on Ian’s tabs. ‘Is that an octopus on-‘

‘Nope, nothing,’ Ian cuts in, rushing to close his tabs. He stands back up and places his hands on hips. ‘So. I thought you should probably know what happened with your idea.’

‘My genius plan to expose King Neckbeard, leader of the Ian Gallagher groupies?’

Ian frowns lightly at her and then shrugs, reaching up to scratch at his stubble. ‘Let’s hope that’s not who’s on the other end.’

‘I guess it wouldn’t matter if it was like an ancient relic of a dude, though, would it?’ Jenny delicately lifts an eyebrow and Ian stares at her, unimpressed.

‘I told you that shit because I thought you wouldn’t judge me.’

‘Not judging, just making the most of the knowledge,’ she replies innocently. Ian shakes his head and titters before dragging one of his chairs over to the desk and sitting down. Jenny swivels around gently on the stolen desk chair as Ian relays back to her what he’d done and how the desired person had responded almost instantly. Jenny smirks and nods once Ian finishes.

‘Huh… So you’re gonna show me the video, right? I need to know what kind of magic face this girl must have.’

Ian rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not the face, okay? It’s the replies.’

‘Well show me them, then.’

Ian pauses, closing his mouth. ‘No…’

Jenny mashes her eyebrows together. ‘What?’

 _Because even though the comments can be seen by everyone it seems kind of private? Because maybe it’s nice to keep some things to himself?_ That doesn’t sound plausible. ‘Just watch the video.’

Jenny still looks apprehensive but agrees anyway, rolling herself to the side slightly to give Ian room to bring up the channel.

Ian’s not sure if maybe God’s decided to finally make contact or whether he’s just incredibly lucky without a deity being behind it, but when he clicks onto the channel to show it to Jenny, he sees that there’s a new upload, and, fuck, that’s not the girl who was in the last one in the thumbnail.

‘Uh, Ian?’ Jenny waves her hand in front of his face and it snaps him out of the shock. He grins and almost cracks his laptop screen with how forcefully he points at the unwatched video.

‘That wasn’t there earlier, what the fuck,’ he says.

Jenny smiles slowly and nudges Ian with her jacket clad shoulder. ‘You gonna click it or do I need to do it for you?’

Silently he clicks on the five-minute video himself and starts to smile as it begins with a short introduction of the channel name. Then the girl from the previous video pops up with another guy standing behind her looking a little uncomfortable. At the ‘ _Hey, I'm Mandy, that’s my brother over there,'_  Ian’s excitement levels have gone through the roof. He pauses it and turns to his friend.

‘That’s the brother! They’re brother and sister,  _he_ was talking about his sister in the comments! Jenny… he’s hot.’

She shields her eyes with one hand and moves her head from side to side. ‘Oh, Ian.’

‘What?’

‘You get how unusual this whole thing is, right? He’s probably crushing on you, you’re crushing on him and… shit, you’re this kind of a big deal sort of thing, he makes dumb little videos with his sister…’

Ian waits for her to come to some sort of conclusion, but, nope, she’s finished it there. He laughs quietly as she keeps shaking her head. ‘Okay.’

‘Fuck, whatever, you’ll make all of this bullshit come together and work whatever way you want it to because you’re fucking Super YouTube guy.’

‘Yep,’ Ian says confidently, but inside he’s incredibly doubtful over this entire situation.

Jenny shakes her head one last time but then slaps her hands on Ian’s desk. ‘Right, okay, you can finish watching that video later, right now we’ve gotta work on what you’re gonna say in your stream next weekend.’

And so Ian finds himself spending his Sunday afternoon in the presence of his best, and probably only friend in the nearby area, fleshing out a plan on a piece of scrap paper for what the hell he’s going to end up speaking about in his first live stream.

‘Family means a lot to me… too…’ Ian mumbles, voice muffled from the pen lid in his mouth. He groans and spits it out, throwing down his pen too. It’s normal for Ian to plan out his weekly vlogs, but he feels a little weird about this one. And also unprepared to be putting out a live broadcast where he can’t just magic his fuck ups away.

‘Okay, you’re gonna need to stop stressing over this,’ Jenny says as she brushes her hands off on her jeans having just finished the sandwich Ian had made her. Ian cocks an eyebrow.

‘I need to plan this out. If I fuck up, I can’t edit it away because it’s live. And, fuck, what if the guy-’ Ian pauses to point at his open laptop which, although on sleep mode, still has the paused video open. ‘-that guy, what if he’s watching?’

‘He probably will be,’ Jenny says as if it’s obvious. Which it probably is. ‘You need to get over this, okay? You’ll charm his ass off no matter what you end up saying. Everything’s gonna be fine. Hell, you might even get a fuck out of this one by the end of the year, if you work hard enough and earn enough gold stars.’

‘Fuck you,’ Ian says, letting his forehead fall against the paper. ‘God.’

Jenny pats his shoulder comfortingly and then walks back towards the kitchen. Ian sits up again and watches her go.

‘You got any coffee? Or do I need to go into work on my rare Sunday off?’ she calls. Ian drags his hand down his face.

‘Uh, yeah… I think… Somewhere,’ he says, mumbling by the end of the reply. Coffee really seems like a good idea, he thinks, as he stares down at the page of scribbles in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to watch me stress out over my fics as I procrastinate, I'm over on [Tumblr](http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com)


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